Live While You Can
by shades of gray
Summary: Aragorn's adolesence: how he met Arwen and turned away from the throne of Gondor-NOTE! I've really just used his charecter, this story doesn't follow the facts of Aragorn's life that well, I didn't exactly sweat the details, but it's still a fun read. ^_^
1. a reluctant king

Hey all FFNers who are reading this fic! I know you want to get to the story part, and I'd really  
like o get to writing it, but other things must be dealt with first. *sigh* this can get annoying, but  
just so no one sues me: I do not own The Lord of The Rings *double sigh* Including the  
characters.  
  
On with the fic!  
  
  
  
Aragorn looked out the window at the crashing falls just past the balconies of the House of  
Elrond. If only he could go out on to the balconies and get some fresh air. But no, he was stuck  
inside, doomed to hours more of sword training before he was let off for the evening. He  
suddenly focused again on the small room he was in, and the task he was set about to complete,  
when he heard the crash of his sword as it was knocked out of his grasp, then felt the cool edge  
of a blade against his throat.  
"You'll have to do better than that if you are to be the King of Gondor," came the voice of his  
teacher. Aragorn grimaced and moved his head to the left away from the sharp blade just barely  
touching his skin, then picked up his sword.  
"Sorry," he mumbled and focused again on his teacher and the maneuver he was supposed to be  
going over.  
  
At seven o' clock Aragorn's sword lessons were over. He wearily made his way down the  
stony steps from his training quarters. He practiced in a (comparatively) small chamber with two  
large open windows looking down onto a balcony a story below. Oftentimes Aragorn wondered  
why they had designated that particular space for him to train in, really it was almost a part of  
the balcony itself, and everyone knew more than well enough that Aragorn was a dreamer. They  
couldn't hope to have him concentrate half as well as he needed to in such a place. But as this  
thought entered Aragorn's head that night, another voice spoke up, this one bitter and  
subversive. You are your own person! You know you don't want to be king, you know that you  
are not ready. It's the same old story that it ever was. Why should you be someone you're not?  
Aragorn stopped and leaned against the stone wall around the balcony, over the glistening deep  
blue pool that the waterfalls spilled into. He had heard this voice speak in his head often enough,  
and he wasn't sure whether it was one he should pay heed to. It sounded a lot like Legolas, an  
elven friend, who was next in line for the throne of Mirkwood. He understood Aragorn's thirst to  
serve his people and country, but at the same time his imagination and heart.  
  
Aragorn grumbled to himself, picked up a rough pebble, and tossed it far out over the  
ledge, watching it fall for a moment before splashing into the watery basin with a tiny ker-plish,  
inaudible and barely visible from where he stood. He was sick of things he didn't understand.  
What's more, he was hungry, so he turned and started for the dining hall, where the later diners  
would still be there for company. 


	2. dangerous sleep

Thanx to Narsil and Azura Angelique for the reviews - keep them coming, pleez!  
Im the meantime, I present you with:  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Aragorn entered the common room, many elves, and other creatures besides, were  
relaxing and enjoying the evening. Many were singing, both favorite ballads and new tunes  
Aragorn hadn't heard. This didn't surprise him; the elves made excellent bards, and composing  
was a most enjoyed pastime. Stories had been told over and again through the elves songs, more  
ways than one could imagine.  
  
Through the tall, grand doorway at the opposite end of the warm common room lit by  
blazing fireplaces was the dining hall. Aragorn made his way for that now, his stomach  
badgering him for dinner. The dining hall had a long table, large enough to seat three across and  
thirty down it's sides. It was surrounded on either side by smaller, circular tables, but everyone  
sat at the large table, unless there was no more room, or there were important guests be served  
there with Lord Elrond. Tonight Aragorn spotted Legolas at the very end of the table, writing  
something on a piece of parchment. He rushed towards him, eager to have some time with his  
friend after the long day of training.  
"Aragorn! Sit down!" Legolas exclaimed happily when he saw Aragorn.  
"Thank you. I'm tired of this, day after day." Legolas looked at him, his face expressionless.  
Aragorn looked back, his face not-so-expressionless.  
"Eat something," Legolas said, changing the subject. Aragorn suspected that Legolas was only  
suggesting that because he didn't want to go into that king business, but he didn't really mind.  
He was extremely hungry, after all.   
  
  
  
Late that night, Aragorn entered his sleeping quarters. He knew he shouldn't be up so  
late, as he wouldn't be able to get anything done tomorrow, he would be so tired, but being with  
the elves was so much fun. He quietly undressed and slipped into his large, grand-looking bed. It  
went perfectly with the other things in his room; the dresser, window seat/chest, chair and  
bedside table were all fancy looking and made of finest quality wood, carved into magnificent  
curves and shapes. It reminded Aragorn of his future as king, and made his stomach turn  
unpleasantly. Aragorn closed his eyes and willed himself to go to sleep. In a few minutes, his  
breathing was heavy and regular, and Aragorn was deep in a sleep full of dreams about being  
king of Gondor. 


End file.
